The elderly maid walked with a brisk efficiency that Samara struggled to match. Her legs were still weak, her body still recovering from whatever magic had saved her, but she refused to slow down. She had already shown enough weakness for one lifetime.
"The kitchens are through that archway," the woman said, pointing. "The main hall is straight ahead. The east wing is off limits to servants unless accompanied by a steward. The west wing is where the royal family resides. You do not go there unless summoned."
Samara nodded, trying to commit everything to memory. The palace was a maze of corridors and archways, each one identical to the last. Stone walls. Torches. Doors carved with symbols she did not recognize. If she was going to find a way out of here, she needed to know every path.
